“Ye ken,” Evander said, holding up the crust of bread and pointing it in Torquil’s direction. “There is a local lassie that enjoys music verra much. I should introduce ye.”
Torquil shook his head. “I politely decline yer offer, brother. I have no interest in such pairings.”
“Come now. She is of marrying age and unclaimed. Ye are of marrying age and also unclaimed. I am for certs that Seamus would agree to such a union.”
Torquil ground his teeth. It irked him that he could not say that hewas committed to Eilidh. In his mind. In his heart, he was. And it was impossible that this lass Evander spoke of could even hold a small flame to Eilidh’s beauty and caring personality. Nor did Torquil care to find out.
“I am no’ interested,” Torquil repeated.
Evander nudged him. “Och, the nights must get lonely out at yer cottage. Do ye no’ long for a bonny lassie to warm yer bed?”
Och, he did. But the person he wanted warming his bed was not anyone he would find on MacGregor lands.
“Nay.” Torquil did not expand on his answer.
His brother, though, oblivious, kept pushing. “Ye already have a lass.” He slapped his knee and chuckled. “Och, I should have kenned. Of course, ye do. Why wouldnae ye? Ye are a MacGregor and we MacGregors ne’er want for aught.”
Torquil fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s ridiculous statement. Mayhap that was the case for Evander, but it had not been for Torquil. Nay, he had never kenned what he wanted, what he needed, until he laid eyes upon Eilidh Hart.
Hart.
If only she possessed any other surname. Things would be so much easier.
“I shall take yer silence as confirmation. Which village lass have ye been occupying yer time with? Is she bonny? Come, brother. Dinnae be so secretive.”
“’Tis no’ a village lass,” Torquil ground out.
Evander rose an eyebrow with curiosity.
“Nay? Is she a keeper?” He took a bite of roasted hare and chewed for a moment afore continuing. “That is good. ’Tis time ye settled down. I am for certs Seamus will give his blessing.”
Torquil had to fight a bitter laugh. “I am no’ settling down with anyone. Are ye daft?” Torquil’s words were infused with anger, more so than he wanted.
Evander put his hands up in defense. “Easy now. I only tease.”
Torquil pushed back from the table. “I should get back to my cottage. I have much to do.” He spun on his heel and exited the keep’s walls. Outside, he drew in a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh.
He was sure his brother meant well, but it was hard to have such discussions when he could not speak the truth.
Eilidh was not like the other girls he had met in the village. None of them could even begin to compare to her.
He missed her. He had not seen her since the afternoon they had spent together, exploring each other’s bodies. What would life look like if they could be together? He imagined Eilidh living with him in his cottage. Their cottage. They’d enjoy a quiet life, writing songs and making music together. During the warmer months they would travel to play their songs. When they weren’t traveling, their days would be filled with the normalcy of everyday life. Eilidh tending to the garden, whilst he chopped wood. Their nights filled with their music and lovemaking.
And children. He had never really thought much about having wee ones. But with Eilidh, he wanted lots of bairns. Daughters that looked as beautiful as their mother and were equally or more talented, if that were even possible. Hearty sons that would grow to be strong.
By the time Torquil arrived at his cottage, he had imagined their whole life ahead of them. But then reality hit, and he remembered the odds that had been stacked against them being together in any other way than in secret.
MacGregor.
Hart.
Aside from the underlying strife betwixt the two clans, she was the laird’s daughter.
He was only cousin to the laird.
He held nay title. Nay position of wealth.
The image he had built in his mind faded away.
